


[Movoivie Night.]

by boychic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, movies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boychic/pseuds/boychic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake has never seen a movie he doesn't like, and doesn't expect anything less than excellence from his best friend's brother's movies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Movoivie Night.]

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gomen. I just wanted to write something cute of Dirk and Jake being bros and watching the SBAHJ movovies.
> 
>  
> 
> The movies are all officially named SBaHJ: The Moive, SBaHJ: The Movovie, SBaHJ: The The Film, and SBaHJ: The Movle.

He knows every word.

 

“I can’t wait to be a useless piece of shit all day and play all these games.” Dirk says in tandem with Sweet Bro.  As his best friend, you’ve been through the worst with him, but you’ve seldom seen him like this: leaning forward with one hand under his chin, intently focused on the movie and looking amused already.  The two of you are hunched under a woolen blanket on the futon, the floor nearby stained and littered with discarded nacho cartons. There is a bowl of popcorn left undisturbed after it was upturned during a wrestling match on the far end of the couch, forgotten save for when flicking kernels off of the futon is necessary. There are four of Dirk’s brother’s entertaining films to be watched tonight, and Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff: The Moive, playing at current. Just as you’ve expected, Sweet Bro falls head over heels, tumbling down the stairs. The camera rotates around his falling form while his abandoned videogames fall about him. The shot pans to Ben Stiller’s anguished face as he shouts:

_“FUCK , I’M FALLING DOWN ALL THESE STAIRDS.”_

 

 

Stiller has quite the set of pipes! You turn your gaze in Dirk’s direction to see he’s moved closer and is looking to you – at least, you think he is. It’s hard to tell with those confounded Japanese specs always blocking his eyes. He’s a terribly difficult guy to read, but he makes short work of showing his intent when he speaks. “I warned you about stairs, bro. I told you, dog.”

“It keeps happening!” You offer, and he chuckles in reaction. “Say, Dirk! Was Stiller’s facial hair applied with sharpie?” He nods. Ha! You knew you were on point.

“Keen eye, Jake.” He plucks a piece of popcorn from between the seats and flicks it into your lap idly. You pick it up and knead it between your fingers until the fluffy white bits fall from the kernel while watching the movie. “I have to ask, though I’m sure of the answer already. You’re enjoying the show, aren’t you?” It’s your turn to nod.

“Never seen a movie I don’t like, Strider!” It’s true.

“I expected as much.” He says with a note of humor in his voice, the scoundrel. You reach over and sprinkle the fluffy bits of popcorn into his hair. He shakes it out immediately, raking a hand through platinum blonde locks with the utmost of care. It’s a “Whoa there, Tarzan. Careful with the hair. If it were anyone else, I’d have lopped a hand off by now.”

“That’s  just capital news. Should I feel special?”

“Indee- Jake, god damn it. “ You barely let him get through the first syllables before tossing the kernel into his hair as well.  “Prepared to be schooled, dude.” He lunges at you and this begins another short wrestling match which ends fairly quickly after he has you at his mercy and has you profess your love for “Kermit cock and bukkake”.

 

(You’re still not actually sure what that last thing means.)

 

Two hours pass quickly, rife with shots Ben Stiller falling from different angles and close-ups of Owen Wilson’s unmoving face while he contorts his mouth into a peculiar shape.  The movie is a cinematic gem regardless of all of this irony hogamundy Dirk tries so hard to explain. By the time you’ve finished the movie you’re both tangled up together, having executed an epic bro-hug-bump in tandem with Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff onscreen.  After a while it got too warm to hang all over each other and you both retreated to the kitchen for more soda.  When you returned to the futon you were both still sweaty, even after tossing the blanket into the mess on the floor. Dirk abandoned his shirt to hang over the back of the couch after your first wrestling match, and you’ve been enduring the humid Huston heat in your usual baggy cargo shorts. You put on the next movie yourself. Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff: The Movovie, to be exact.

 

The second movie introduces the “Nancho Party” arc Dirk speaks of ever so often.  The viewer is presented with nanchoes falling in slow motion at some point and the camera begins to pan to dramatic angles again. The lighting shifts. Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff move around the nanchoes at comparatively normal speeds, taking photos and fussing over them incompetently.  This is another ridiculously lengthy spectacle, and by the time the camera dips under the nanchoes  you can’t contain yourself.  Ypir body rocks with laughter, and only after you’ve rolled off of the couch and onto the blanket below does Dirk join you with another light chuckle. You think he may be laughing more at you than the movie, especially after you let slip a snort.

“How high do you even have to be to laugh like that?” Dirk questions. You pull yourself up from the couch and cuff him in the shoulder. It isn’t long before he has you in another headlock and the movie ends while you refuse to renounce your love for Avatar at Dirk’s insistence.

The third movie slips by quickly and much in the same manner. The characteristically non-sequiteur humor of the movie series seems to have moved imperceptibly toward something darker in the last movie. It doesn’t cheapen the experience, but you can tell there is heavy symbolism at play. Thinking about it too hard makes your head a little fuzzy, so you question Dirk about it.

“Ah, but  they were always this way. Veiled jabs at the Batterwitch and her rapidly rising regime at the time have always been a part of the movie.  Don’t you remember the bit with the sock ruse?”

“The sock what?” You find yourself more confused than you were previously, for a moment. “Oh, yes! Cripes, how could I forget hijinks like those? Mind refreshing my memory?”

“The part where he steals the car and backs it into the water. The sock ruse was a distaction.” One blonde eyebrow arches almost elegantly over his shades. “You don’t remember at all, do you?”

“I think you may have been practicing your full nelson on me at that point in the film.” You can practically sense Dirk rolling his eyes behind his shades. You both go back to watching the movie in silence.

 

Donald Glover stands unmoving in the distance. With how slowly the camera zooms in on his motionless, pajama-clad form, it takes ten silent minutes to reach Geromy. His stillness never wavers as he stands with his face upturned, arms held before him as if he’s expecting a divine gift to fall into his grasp. His expression is a mask of unmatchable serenity. New friend Geromy, Owen Wilson announces. Soon after, Peaches the newd dog is also introduced.

“She had Donald assassinated not long after the third movie was released. The dog too. He was replaced with Snoop Lion in the fourth film. He played both Geromy and Peaches, actually.” Dirk reiterates a darker note in his voice. You’ve heard about all of this before. The DVD skips, and for a moment is frozen upon the face of Shaquille O’neil (portraying President Obana) overlaid by a poorly rendered graph illustrating the decline of the economy.

“Well isn’t that a friggin’ shame? His performance really was transcendental, as you called it, bro.” You get no reply, but Dirk leans over. to rest his head on your shoulder. The movie begins to play again after the short interruption

 “In my dreams, I am the star. It’s me.” Dirk mumbles tiredly against your shoulder , sounding as if he can’t let this bit of the movie pass without saying the line. You shrug him off after his shades begin to dig uncomfortably into your cheek. The Big Man, played by President Barack Obama, escapes from above with the rock. Something is flipped turnways, you guess, but you aren’t paying much attention at this point. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you were sure of that Dirk was just as tired.

 

You put an arm around your best friend’s shoulder and tip your head against his, drifting off to sleep right alongside him.


End file.
